


Interview with the Villain

by JeezusCheezits



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Inside the Mind, Interviews, Other, Psychology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeezusCheezits/pseuds/JeezusCheezits
Summary: Transcript of an interview between "The Villain" Adam Gerin and Kate Cabana, two ASWF personalities.  Within, there is much to discover about the deceptive and enigmatic Gerin, as he speaks candidly about his Pro Wrestling Observer "Feud of the Year" with Mags Bradford, among other topics.  The reader may be shocked at the depths of knowledge--and depravity--that are touched upon in this interview.





	1. Introduction

_*The following is a transcript of a portion of a television special, broadcast December 21st, 2025 on ESPN.*_

  
Joey Styles: Greetings, one and all, and welcome back to the ASWF 2025 Season in Review special. I am your humble host, "The Voice of Hardcore" Joey Styles, and I'd like to thank you all once again for taking a little time out of your busy holiday schedules to catch up with all the action from the past year of the ASWF. Now, in all of my years as a broadcast journalist-slash-professional wrestling guru, I have seen, in person, many of the worst, most personal, most vicious feuds in the history of the squared circle. I have seen brothers pitted against one another, old schoolyard feuds settled and resettled in blood-soaked arenas, and countless friends and family members used against the warriors of the ring. I'd thought I'd seen everything I could see. But none of that prepared me for the game of cat-and-mouse played this season between newcomer Adam Gerin and renowned shooter Mags Bradford. At times, no matter what she did, it seemed she could not escape the leering clutches of her depraved, determined, and obsessed would-be suitor. While her knock-out victory at ASWF Ragnarok seems to have put a stop to the matter, for now, it still leaves one question unanswered--why? Kate Cabana, my broadcast colleague, and frankly, a braver soul than I, went straight into the dragon's den to find that answer. This exclusive interview is what she sent in from her stronghold in Chicago. Hopefully, this explains everything, and more.


	2. Welcome to My Parlour

_*The video opens on a gray, dreary avenue in, for all we know, Anytown, USA. A thin veneer of white frost covers the withering grass, which still pokes through the sleety sheet in patches. The road curves downhill and to the right, where a row of older, yet clearly well-maintained, houses comes into view. The camera settles on one charming number, a red brick two-story with a bay window and a green front door. Two strands of lights line the white trim of the roof and porch, and a pine tree, decked in blue, silver, and white decorations, blocks the view into the house.*_

  
Unknown voice (likely the cameraman): This is the place. Let's go, Kate.  
Kate Cabana: Yeah, okay, I'm comin'.

  
_*Kate Cabana slides into the frame, walking away from the camera. She's dressed warmly, with a fur-lined overcoat covering her torso and fuzzy boots over black denim jeans.*_

  
Cameraman: Don't tell me you're nervous...  
Kate: I'm not! Not really. It's just...you wonder sometimes where a man like Adam Gerin lives, where he sleeps and schemes, and this is NOT what I had in mind.  
Cameraman: Where were you thinking he'd live?  
Kate: A cruddy apartment or a refrigerator box by the freeway or a van parked in a cemetery, iunno. Someplace shady and capable of producing such a devious, vulgar person. Villains don't do Christmas lights, is all I'm sayin'.  
Cameraman: Maybe...that's what he wants you to think?  
Kate: Well, he can keep all that Jedi mind trick junk to himself, 'cause I won't fall for it.

  
_*Kate bounds up the porch steps in one hope and knocks three times on the door. The unknown cameraman catches up to her just in time for her to turn to face him with a beaming smile and a pleasant announcer's voice.*_

  
Kate: Ladies and gentlemen, this is Kate Cabana, and I am, right now, standing at the threshold of the South Detroit home of none other than the Motor City Misery Machine, Adam Gerin. You folks have a lot of questions for Mr. Gerin, questions about who he is and how he got here and who does he think he is, and tonight, here and now, one way or another, I will get those answers out of him in the way only your Second City Sweetheart can!  
Adam Gerin: Not a bad intro. I'll give it 8 out of 10.

  
_*The camera swings from Kate's face to Adam Gerin, who leans his shoulder against the doorjamb. A smirk on his face tells everyone present that he's been expecting them.*_

  
Kate: Well, well, well. Were you going to let us in, big guy, or should we conduct this interview in the cold?  
Adam: You looked like you were in the zone. I didn't want to interrupt.  
Kate: Well, now that we have each other's full attention, are we staying out her, or...  
Adam: _*steps aside for his guest*_ Mi casa es su casa. May I take your coat?  
Kate: Oh! Um, sure.  
Adam: If you'd rather not...  
Kate: No, it's just that you never hear anybody ask a gentleman's question like that anymore. Of course, you can take my coat.

  
_*Adam offers a hand as his female guest crosses the threshold. In response, she shrugs off her overcoat, revealing a curve-hugging navy pullover underneath. The coat slides smoothly into Adam's waiting hand.*_

  
Kate: You specifically requested a woman conduct your interview, but Leilani's already in Hawaii for the holidays. I presume I will do?  
Adam: You will, and nicely. I'm sure it seemed like an odd request, but I'm glad management saw fit to indulge me. For what I want to talk about, I feel a woman interviewer would be...less eager to be confrontational and put me on the defensive right away.  
Kate: Well, if you think you'll just bowl me over, you've got another thing coming.  
Adam: On the contrary! I just want a fair chance to speak my mind, and I feel you would grant me that.  
Kate: You will...if I feel like you deserve it. May I sit?  
Adam: Of course! The living room is fine. I feel I should warn you, I do have company coming in from outta town, so I might have to interrupt you to get them settled. Will that be fine?  
Kate: _*light shrug*_ Hey, it's your house.  
Adam: Cool. Can I get you something to drink? I've got milk, Ecto Cooler, grape juice, all kinds of pop, vodka, Jack Daniels, Hpnotiq, Captain Morgan--  
Kate: Thanks, but we're fine. Shall we get this interview underway?  
Adam: Sure thing.


	3. An Accomplished Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam takes the opportunity to humblebrag about his many, many accomplishments, and we get to see a bit of what he does with his time outside of the ring.

_*The duo take seats on a black pleather couch, Kate seated to the right of Adam on screen.*_

  
Kate: Okay, so Adam, the first thing I notice sitting over here is your mantle. Can we get a shot of the, just, silly number of trophies and medals and all such up there?

  
_*The camera swings up and to the left, focusing on the obvious showpiece of a mantle above the television. Indeed, it is festooned with an almost absurdly large number of trophies, medals, plaques, and the like. To count them all might be an impractical task.*_

  
Kate: Can you talk a little bit about those? I've never seen a collection quite like it...  
Adam: Oh, that? _*chuckle*_ That collection represents my accomplishments so far, as it were. Most of what's up there are from amateur wrestling--invitational tournaments around the US and Canada, high school conference meets, my two NCAA championships, things like that. I have several more from youth wrestling, but those are all in storage.  
Kate: Wow! Okay, so let's learn a little bit about you. What three trophies up there would you say people would least expect you to have?  
Adam: Hmmm...don't often get asked that, but...that'd be these three.

  
_*Adam briefly rises off the couch and out of the shot. He returns with three trophies in his arms that do seem a bit out of place compared to the rest. He sets these on the coffee table in front of them.*_

  
Adam: This one on the right is a Big Ten championship for live-action roleplaying from last year.  
Kate: That's a thing you can compete in?!  
Adam: It's not officially recognized by the conference, but yeah, the schools in the conference that have LARPing teams all come together each summer in a round-robin tournament of brawn, intellect, and skill to decide who's got the best squadron and decide a champion. I guided Michigan State to four titles while I was there, and got a bard's sendoff at the end of the proceedings last July, the highest honor one man can achieve at these gatherings. Erm...are you familiar with The Giver?  
Kate: Well, yeah. Great book, one of my favorites.  
Adam: Indeed. I loved it when I was nine. At any rate, you're then familiar with the ritual of Release? It was very similar to that, except without a lethal injection at the end. During the final day, after the tournament is completed and the awards are handed out, we host this massive catered banquet, with stews and mutton and mead--the whole nine yards. During my last year's banquet, the High Council, which is a group of former players appointed by the planners and sponsors, spoke at length of my numerous accomplishments and contributions to the tournament, including breaking the record for most career kills. Honestly, I didn't know they were keeping track, but I should've figured they would.  
Kate: Well, sure. If you're going to host a gigantic nerd jamboree every year, which it sounds like this is, you might as well go all the way and keep a running record.  
Adam: Makes sense, in hindsight. Anyhow, after they get done running down that laundry list, the bards, who basically keep everyone informed about how the tournament's going, come out and sing songs of heroism and conquest about me, and everyone, friend and foe alike, gets a chance to raise a glass to my honor. Usually, it's all very respectful.  
Kate: Usually?  
Adam: It wouldn't be me if it stayed respectful. The first two songs were nice, but once my teammates got a hold of Harrock, whose real name I won't say now, out of respect for his craft--but no other reason--it was all downhill from there. Every glass raised to my honor became a roast about how much of a tryhard and a pain in the a** I was. The only way to survive is to absorb it all. Sink into character, lap up all the attention. So, rather than hide behind my mutton leg, I kicked back and let them rail into me. You have to learn not to take it too, too seriously, y'know?  
Kate: I've gotta say, it's fascinating to hear you talk about this at length. I wouldn't have pegged you for a "ye olde ren faire" type. So what about the other two?  
Adam: This glass one in the middle is from EVO 2024, for winning the King of Fighters XVI tournament. I should have two of these, but I OD'd on hype the year before and turned to skunk butter once I made Top 8. The last one, on my left here, is from the Motor City Dungeon Brawl, which I won only two days before my ASWF debut.  
Kate: Okay, great! Now, pretend I know nothing about anything you just said...  
Adam: Long story short, I'm a consummate gamer.


	4. Big Aspirations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interview turns to the question of Adam's career desires, which turns to him talking a bit more about his background and philosophies.

Kate: Interesting. Do you plan on making room up on that mantle for the ASWF TV title someday?  
Adam: Maybe. Trust me, I have a plan to display a belt at the very top of that shelf, but my aspirations reach far, far higher than the Television title.  
Kate: Well, the goal of any wrestler is to be a world champion someday, of course.  
Adam: Sure, but my aspirations reach higher than even that. The Great Khali was a world champion once, remember? Brian Kendrick was a world champion for five minutes. The Miz held a world championship for several months, because nobody demanded it. David fucking Arquette was a world champion in WCW, for God's sake! I'd love to say that our own federation is immune to weirdo world title holder syndrome, but then I remembered Syn Alexander and got sad. Conversely, some of the all-time greats have NEVER held a major world championship. It's not just guys that give indy geeks the vapors, either--I'm talking about guys like Ted DiBiase, Claudio Castagnoli, Chris Hero, Fit Finlay, William Regal, Shelton Benjamin, and a cavalcade of other guys everyone agrees are really damn good, all the way to legendary. World championships are fantastic, but they are not everything, and they are NOT my ultimate goal.  
Kate: Okay...so what is your ultimate goal, then?

_*Adam leans forward in his seat, bridging his fingers.*_

  
Adam: I'm glad you asked. Picture fifty years from now. Assuming society has not crumbled to the dust by then, fans of big-time wrestling will sit down to compile lists of names. They will seek to answer one question: "Who is the greatest wrestler of all time?" With more than a century of source material to choose from, the task will be a daunting and monumental one. The first 20 or so names are easy to think of, but after that, well...it gets harder. Hairs start getting split, matches will get analyzed, and arguments...oh, the arguments. There will be many, they will be vicious, and they will get personal, using profanities we haven't yet dreamed up to insult every aspect of a dissenter's existence at the speed of light. I want to be in those first 20 names. I want to handily and consistently be considered one of the best to ever lace up boots--the best next-gen guy, the best technician, the best heel, the most influential, I want to be one of the greatest of all time!  
Kate: That is...well, let it not be said that you don't aim for the stars.  
Adam: Given my background, I feel as though I have a duty to work towards legendary status.  
Kate: About your background, it's one of the deepest I've ever seen for a second-generation star. Your father is Rhino, the very last ECW World and Television champion, and also a former NWA champion. You also have three family friends in the WWE Hall of Fame--that's Edge, Christian, and Chris Jericho, for those of you playing along at home--you've trained with The Dudley Boyz, Scott D'Amore, Ace Steel, and a veritable laundry list of other wrestling luminaries. From the look of things, you were destined for the squared circle.  
Adam: Yeah, you might think that! Truth is, my father actually wasn't too keen on me getting into the industry. He really dragged his feet about helping me make headway with his contacts.  
Kate: Really now?! Usually it's just the opposite, with wrestlers' kids getting chucked into the ring strictly because of their parents' influence. Did he not think you were up to snuff to carry on the name?

  
_*Adam shoots back into his seat, and his tone turns incredulous when he speaks again._ _*_

Adam: What? No! No, no, nothing like that. His belief was that I was too smart to be a big-time wrestler, too conventionally intelligent. "With a brain like yours," he'd say, "you could do anything you wanted to. You've got no business getting those brains beat in by a bunch of rejects and rednecks like me." See, he reasoned that he was not a scholastic man, and because of that, wrestling provided him the greatest shot he had at making, not only a name for himself, but some serious moolah, as well. He didn't want me to feel obliged to follow in his footsteps, because he recognized that I, being far more scholarly than he ever was, would have other opportunities available to me. What he didn't recognize was that, because I am so intelligent, and because my background is so rich with the industry, instead of simply doing this for a living, I would be inspired--and, in fact, feel obligated--to become one of the all-time greats. See, I have this belief that those of privileged birth and circumstance--and I am, in terms of pro wrestling--should feel a responsibility to do great things with their lofty position for the betterment of society on the whole. They should not merely sit on a throne they didn't make and perpetuate their own existences. Rather, they should exercise their great gifts and use them to change the world for the better.  
Kate: Wait, wait, wait, just a minute. You're implying that you want to change the world?  
Adam: I want to change the world of the ring, yes. For too long, pro wrestling has been the domain of the genetic freak, the college dropout, the D-3 football player, and the mid-level bodybuilder. Now, that's not to say these categories of performer haven't made any contributions at all to the sport. But, in the process of doing so, they've cut out the wrestler. They've cut out the very people that made the sport a thing at all, and in doing that, they've diluted the mainstream product to a point where, y'know, there's not as much value placed on the grappler, the stretcher, the ground-and-work-over guy. Imagine Strangler Lewis or Frank Gotch watching a main event from the last 30 years. They wouldn't know what to make of it! They'd be sitting in the stands going, "What the flying f*** am I looking at here?!" Sadly, because of these trends, this sport has a reputation in mainstream society as being an amusement for miscreants, deviants, and all-around ne'er-do-wells. Wrestling is the original sport, historically, and it deserves much more respect than it gets here in the states, but it's not, and that's because, I think, the standard-bearers for the last 40-some years haven't really been "wrestlers" in the classical sense.  
Kate: You refer, I assume, to the likes of John Cena, Goldberg, and Roman Reigns when you say this.  
Adam: Of course I'm talking about them, but even Ric Flair, who many argue is the best of all time, went to college on a football scholarship, and didn't even bother to graduate! With the way things are today, you do not have to be a good wrestler to be a wrestling megastar, and that's f***ed up. Let's redecorate the room a little, put an actual wrestler at the forefront of the scene, and see if we can change the conversation.  
Kate: And you intend to be that actual wrestler.  
Adam: _*He smirks*_ D*** skippy.


	5. NXT Tryout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam talks about the earliest part of his career, an ill-fated and unimpressive tryout for NXT.

Kate: What nickname would you want people to know you by as you make your ascent, then? Because frankly, you've got a lot to choose from, y'know? People have called you The Motor City Misery Machine, The All-American Nightmare, The Pain Factory, The One-Man Double Team--and those are the most common nicknames for you. At least, the ones we can mention on air. Is there one you like better than the rest?  
Adam: Oh, gee. I have to admit, those are all pretty good. I am partial to Pain Factory, but that's more ego than anything else--it's the only one I've come up with myself. I really like The All-American Nightmare, since there's layers of references one could glean from it. I guess it's just up to the fans and what they take to calling me.  
Kate: Cool, cool. Now, how did you end up in the ASWF, anyways? From what I remembered hearing around the time you debuted, there was a bit of a bidding war going on...?  
Adam: Of a sorts, and it's partly thanks to our competition. See, here's something you might not know. April of last year, right, I'm studying my ass off before finals, writing three papers at once, and I get a call from Connecticut. I don't have any family in Connecticut, so this could be someone shilling me on a credit card, but I could use the study break, so I risk it and pick up the phone. Guess who? None less than Triple H himself, callin' to check on little old me.

 _*_ _He snorts in a breath, then continues in a passable imitation of HHH's voice.*_

Adam: "Is this-a Adam Gerin?" And here's me, thinkin' someone's yankin' my chain, but I let him keep rolling, whoever it is seems to be enjoying themselves. "Been hearing some rumbles about you, wanted to invite you down to Orlando once you get done with school." I go, "Sure, sounds great," we talk about dates, whatever. It's not until later that day, when I check my email and see a message, from his personal secretary, with details for a visit three months from that day, that I realize, y'know, this is the real deal! So, okay, I take myself down to Full Sail Unicademy, save a little scratch by staying with some family down there, and I take a tour of the NXT facilities. First of all, that timing can get bent. Here's me, 271 pounds at the time, derping around central Florida in the middle of July. Weather-wise, the only place in the contiguous 48 worse than Florida in July is Florida in August. Death Valley's fine compared to the swampland of Florida, and I don't know how anybody can stand to live there all their life. But forget about that, because we're now in the crucible where wrestling stars are made, or so they assure me. Now don't get me wrong, students have it made down there--it's a fantastic facility down there, with state of the art everything, rings the same specs as the real deal, and easy access to some of the greatest minds pro wrestling fans have ever seen. Sounds great, right?  
Kate: It...certainly does, but if your tone is any indication, something's off about everything.  
Adam: You're not wrong. I'm doing the tour, and...something does feel off. Have you ever gone to a car dealership for, oh, let's say...an oil change?  
Kate: _*Wrinkles her nose*_ Who hasn't?  
Adam: Indeed. Now, have you ever been at the dealership, waiting for them to pull your car in for that oil change, and, getting bored with the magazines from four months ago, you start to wander around a bit? You go past the coffee that's been perking since quarter 'til 8 that morning, and you meander past the reception desk, and you find yourself on the showroom floor. As you look around, there's a certain feeling that overcomes you. Everything is perfectly waxed and cleaned and dusted and sterilized, all of the salesmen are at least 50 feet away from the floor, and you can tell, just by looking, that none of these cars have been driven more than 10 miles. The scene is immaculate. You can't help but feel a little nervous to even ask about the cars, and you KNOW a test drive is out of the question. It's a manufactured sort of sanctity, as if the atmosphere itself is designed to make you think that touching these vehicles is not just an inconvenience, but a sin. Deep down, you know that's not right, but on the surface, you feel like you're defiling their inner sanctum just by being there.  
Kate: ...I can't say I've felt quite like that, but I think I know what you mean.  
Adam: That's how I felt during this tour. It didn't seem, at any point, like I'd really be using the equipment they were bragging about having, as if it all just there for display purposes. I'm not someone to glorify working on broken-down equipment, but it was all too clean, too pretty, too...showy. It seemed like a glamour was placed over an actual gym, if that makes any sense. So I'm a bit uncomfortable during the tour, but I give them a workout and talk myself up a bit, and I even got to trade holds with one of their real greenhorns, a fella by the name of Charlie Gloss. I think he's on NXT now as Stanley Stackhouse.  
Kate: Ah, him. If I'm honest, he's still pretty green.  
Adam: Yeah, those bodybuilder types tend to be long-term projects, by and large. Anyhow, they gave me every indication that I'd impressed them, y'know, they like my background, they like my heritage and name, and they like that I've got a ground game. The large tour disbands, but they ask me and a few others to stick around for a minute, come to the office with them. They get me in the office, and turns out, they want me on a contract before I leave!  
Kate: Okay, I'm going to stop you right there. You're basically handed the shot of a lifetime--a chance to jump into the WWE right away. No slogging it out in the indies for years, no $20 paydays from VFW halls--that sounds like what every rookie wrestler would want! Adam, why would you turn that down?  
Adam: Part of my raising is that, being surrounded by big WWE guys, I wasn't really starstruck by it all. Thing is, they're trying to bulldoze me like I am. So I have to make them pump the brakes, get my priorities squared away. So we start talking terms, y'know, money, dates, all that jazz, and they drop it on me that they want me to sign on for three years of NXT, with a discussion every six months. I stop and say, "Now wait a second. I'm bringing in a literal lifetime of prior experience. I've been taking bumps since I was 4. I'm also bringing in a name--a relevant name, a name that won titles with your company within the last decade. Doesn't that count for anything?" Now they bring in this, "Weeeeelll, you know, three years is kinda the standard development time for fresh rookies anymore, and you'll need time to learn the WWE style. Take these indy guys, y'know, they have to take the time to 'unlearn' some of the 'bad habits' they've picked up out there in the world, and we'll have to do the same with you--" So I say, "If you're going to uninstall everything I've already learned, everything I've worked on up to this point, and upload what YOU want me to know, why does it matter what my name is, or who I've trained with? Why mention it at all? Besides that! Roman Reigns spent, what, a month on NXT? Four years in, and he's a 4-time WWE World Champion." I'm not saying that's what I expected, of course, but as you may have figured out, when I see some bulls***, I call it out. "WEEELLL, he was a very special case, had to strike while the iron was hot, had a lot of experience already"--a bald-faced lie if ever I heard one, by the way--"and we really liked his look, blah blah blah." So here am I. I've trained my whole life with people most greenhorns would give their left testicle to MEET, let alone learn from, I have the most legitimate background in ages, and they want to make me sweat my ample backside off in Orlando for three years... _*holds his hands out to his sides*_ why? So I can learn to throw junk punches and stomps and call it a move set? So I can rise from mid-card purgatory once a year to job out to management's chosen horse? See, that's the way it's done there. They have a few chosen ones, guys they like, guys they can market, and everybody else is chaff.

_*He's doing quite a bit of hand-talking here, pointing and sweeping his arms for emphasis.*_

Adam: Everyone is told their role, and if they step outside of that, they get their legs chopped out from under them. God help you if you try to get yourself over when they say you can't, or shouldn't.  Remember Zac Ryder?  Busted his backside to get over outside of the confines of WWE's method, and they throw him a few thanks-for-coming mid-card titles and shove him to the back of the bus.  They are a true megacorp, a multi-million dollar conglomerate that sells movies, music, energy drinks, posters, Christmas stockings, and of course, their specialty--pasteurized, processed, filtered, vitamin-enriched, bleached wrestling-type product, delivered to your eyeballs four times a week for general consumption. I...am not chaff, Kate Cabana. I am 100%, Grade A, USDA approved WRESTLER, and I will be treated as such. _*Adam shrugs*_ We talked a bit more, and we talked gimmick. They just wanted me to be Rhyno 2.0. No offense meant to my old man, but hey, I'm not him, and why would I want to be him, when I can be me? So, I bounced. I told them, "It's been a gas, thanks for the invite, but this isn't for me." Left Full Sail Unicademy, spent a few days with friends and family, watched the Tigers scour the Rays 8-3, and made my way back to Detroit. About a week after I come back, I get a call from Coach D'Amore. _*Mimes a phone with his hand.*_ "Hey there, kid. I heard through the grapevine you told Hunter to go f*** himself." _*He takes on a face of mild shock.*_ "Well, I wouldn't say I went that far..." "Nah, nah, you're good. You've got some serious rocks, kid, I like that. I know somebody else who likes that, too. Get your passport, come on up here to Border City, let ME see what you've got." Seven months of freelance touring through Border City, including a barn-burner through last year's BOLA, and then...there I am, debuting on Firestorm, with MY music, MY personality, MY style, in MY hometown. Couldn't ask for anything more.


	6. Style Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam talks about some stylistic changes he's made in the ring, including his...inspired choice for his PPV match in October.

Kate: Wow. That was quite the journey you just took us all through. Now, you just mentioned about your style. From where I'm sitting, you're wrestling a very mat-based style, emphasizing damage to the back and neck. In your first few months, you used some more brawling, you worked over the chest and stomach, and you started phasing that out after you lost the Hardcore Championship to Mags the first time, in August. Why make a change right then?  
Adam: What an...unexpected question. Frankly, you're all now seeing the style that I know the best. This style keeps in line with Greco-Roman traditions, but now has lots of suplexes, back breakers, and positioning throws that the amateur game doesn't really allow. That said...I think it's dangerous for a wrestler to pigeonhole themselves by knowing only one style, one movelist, one finisher. After a few years of trotting out the same moves, everyone knows what you're about, and they can prepare to beat it more easily. What you've seen so far? That's not even a fraction of the ways I know how to beat somebody. See, I want my opponent, every night, to worry. I want them to look at me across the ring and say to themselves, "What version of Adam Gerin do I have to contend with today? What's his game, what's his angle? How is he going to come at me?" I don't want anyone getting comfortable facing me. So, I've got to switch things up, keep adding new wrinkles, give them something to think about. That's why I changed tack back around...September-ish of this year.  
Kate: Funny you should mention that, because that's not the only thing you trotted out in September, now is it? I just now looked over to your wall and noticed that d***ed skull mask staring back at me!

_*Adam laughs heartily.*_

Adam: You liked that, did you?  
Kate: I really didn't, no! Also, I could never figure out how that thing was supposed to work like it did.  
Adam: It's a pretty unique gimmick--would you like me to show you?  
Kate: If you wouldn't mind?  
Adam: Sure thing. Lemme just...

_*He disappears off screen for a moment. We hear sounds of general shuffling and adjusting until he re-emerges with a black-and-white skull mask on his left hand.*_

Adam: Here we go. So, this mask was actually a family project. I conceived of the design and funded the production, including finding the best materials for the wearing, but my sister Maryse did all of the fine mechanical and concept work, since, y'know, I don't have an aptitude for it. So, as you can see, it's black and white spandex with some foam inside, mostly to keep everything in place. _*He turns the mask inside out.*_ As for the tricks that made the mask so emotive, well, those are hidden in the foam bits here and here. _*Indicating the eye holes and upper lip.*_ There's a microphone here by the mouth that also serves as a voice modifier. That's how I got those funky inflections and echoes into my promos. To switch modes, just bite down on the molded mouthpiece. The eyes, now, these are real technological marvels. They're tiny LED screens that track the movements of my pupils and translate onto the screen in real time. Pretty easy to control, except for the "empty eyes" look, which I'd get by blinking three times in a row. I...had some trouble getting the blinks to register, which is why it looked like I had something in my eyes during some of those promos leading up to 5E\/3N.  
Kate: I remember that! Can't imagine how you saw through these screens, though.  
Adam: That's the real marvel of them. See for yourself.

_*Kate puts one of the lenses up to her eye, positioning the rest of the mask out of the way.*_

Kate: Say, that's pretty clear.  
Adam: It's designed like a two-way mirror. I see out, but they can't see in.  
Kate: Well, then there's no denying it--your sister's a genius.  
Adam: No doubt! She's more into fighting robots--she has a machine in this year's Battlebots tournament, and she went to the round of 16 with her bot, Hive Mind, last year--so it was nice of her to step outside of her comfort zone for my sake and make something so cool.  
Kate: So, would it be too far to assume that she's behind you turning the ring into a mechanical bull during that match at 5E\/3N?  
Adam: It would, sadly! We had nothing to do with that! That was all thanks to the ASWF production crew. Now, if that isn't a ringing endorsement of our production crew, and also proof that all new wrestlers should make an effort to befriend their federation's stage boss, I don't know what is.  
Kate: I remember that night, I stated that I thought I was hearing hydraulic pistons hissing from the ring, that those were being used to make the ring buck and tilt as fast as it did. Can you give us any insight on that?  
Adam: I really don't know what Bela did to make that magic happen, so you'd have to ask him. It really was cool, though, wasn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses who he went as for Halloween? Respond in the comments below.


	7. The Feud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The main meat of the interview. The reason we're all here. Adam finally discusses his half-year-long feud with "Straight Shooter" Mags Bradford, and some of the troubling issues surrounding it. We get a great deal of insight into his mind and preparations, as well as some insight on Mags, and some of it may shock, appall, or relieve you. Reader discretion is advised.

Kate: Ah, well, this has all been very educational, but we've been avoiding the year's biggest question all night.  
Adam: _*Chuckles harshly.*_ I knew it would come to this eventually. I'm just glad we had a chance to talk about lighter things before we delve into this cavern.  
Kate: *Indignantly.* You gonna let me ask the question or not, big fella? It could be about anything, y'know. I could be gearing up to ask you whose socks you wear under your boots, or if you think Edward Snowden'll ever see a pardon, or anything, really, and you're acting all cagey, like you've recovered the lost Watergate tapes of something. Howzabout you let me add all the tension and the drama we need, and you wait for the question, okay?  
Adam: _*Flashes an amused smile*_ Well, excuuuuse me, princess. It just seems like my feud with Mags Bradford is all anyone wants to talk about with me anymore. That is what you were setting up, right?  
Kate: Indeed, and can you blame them? For the last seven months, this feud has had millions of people, both inside the industry and out of it, talking up a storm. You’ve done some real boundary-breaking things in pursuing her, and it’s ruffled a few feathers, to say the least.  
Adam: Yeah, no kidding. Seems everybody’s got some opinion or other about everything about this feud--me, her, the bosses, my raising, the network, everything.  
Kate: They do. What I want tonight—what everybody wants tonight, really—is the truth. We want to hear your side of the story. We want to know what was going through your mind when you did what you did throughout the entire process, and, judging by that look on your face, you want a chance to tell it.

_*Adam shifts forwards in his seat, leaning closer to Katy.*_

  
Adam: You’re right. You’re absolutely right. See, here’s the thing. Over the last few months, I’ve been catching a whole lotta flack from a whole lotta people who don’t know what’s going on with me, with her, with anything backstage, and it’s high time somebody set the record straight. First of all, despite all appearances to the contrary, I do not, have never, and will never have romantic feelings for Mags Bradford.  
Kate: …absolutely none.  
Adam: Nope.  
Kate: Not even during November, when she was contractually obligated to act as your manager? You two seemed to be getting on awfully well then…  
Adam: Well, by now, I’m sure everyone watching this interview knows that was a smokescreen on her part, but in truth…I never was interested in her like that. Now, of course, there’s those of our fans who believe we would have been a great couple—trust me, I’ve seen the fanfics—and from a physical standpoint only, we might look pretty good together, but…she’s just not my type.  
Kate: Not your type?  
Adam: Nope.

_*Kate throws her left hand in the air, a frustrated look on her face.*_

  
Kate: Then why, sir, did you systematically pursue, intimidate, and—Hell, I’ll say it—stalk Mags Bradford? Why present yourself as having an obsession with her if it’s false?  
Adam: That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? The answer goes back a ways, and takes a while. Do you remember how I was saying, earlier, that I wanted my opponent to worry about what tack I would take to defeat them?  
Kate: Yes, of course.  
Adam: Well, the battle is not always won in the ring. Put yourself in my shoes for just a few moments. It’s the middle of May, and you’ve just been handed your first loss as a pro, in the first round of the Impresario tournament, by one Mags Bradford. You’ve seen that she’s pretty damn formidable in the ring, that those kicks of hers are everything they’re hyped up to be. You’ve seen that she’s no dummy, either—she’s got a good head for the ring, she’s got decent reflexes for stuffing cheap shots, and she’s got good match focus. Now, after that match, you’re running it back in your head while the trainer works over your bumps and bruises, analyzing just what went wrong. As your boots are peeled from your tired feet, you can’t help but shake that nagging feeling that you are going to run into this warrior again, and again, and again. You’re not eager to get your a** handed to you repeatedly. You need an advantage, one that’ll last longer than just one match. How do you get it?  
Kate: I think, were I you, I’d have pushed my weight and strength advantage harder, rather than all of this.  
Adam: _*Chuckles*_ Hahaaaaa…that’s why you’d lose over and over again. It doesn’t matter how big, how strong, or how tough you are, every body has weak points. The eyes…the proverbial “bread basket”…the groin…all are weak to impact, regardless of what you do or how you train. Mags has proven that before, lest we forget Afano Tualau so soon. Also, if you’ll recall, I went down that first match like a sack of s*** because she kicked me right in the brachial plexus origin. For those of you playing at home, _*He moves a hand to indicate a section of his shoulder.*_ that’s the bundle of nerves and arteries where the Vulcan Nerve Pinch is directed. It’s not just TV magic, folks—that’s a very real means of disabling someone in a pinch, pun totally intended.  
Kate: Suppose that’s true enough, but you still haven’t answered my question…

_*Adam slaps his legs fiercely.*_

  
Adam: Very well. The way I see it, there are three ways you can break down you opponent in any wrestling match: *ticks each one off on his fingers* physically, mentally, and emotionally. Now, any dummy can focus on the first one. That’s the whole point of stepping in the ring, right? Testing might against might, speed against speed, skill against skill? To someone on the outside of the industry, sure. When you’re as much a student of the game as I am, however, you begin to realize there’s a whole lot more to it than that. During my amateur days, I was downright notorious for attacking my opposition on those last two points. Was it sportsmanlike? Arguably not, but it wasn’t illegal, either. So if I couldn’t be certain that I would gain an overall physical advantage over her, then logically, I had to beat her on those last two points again. To do that, I had to observe her. I had to answer some very serious questions about Mags Bradford, such as…why is she here? What are her goals? How did she come to this company? Most importantly, what does she fear? What can I take away from her to rattle her cage the most? See, I figure, if I can prey upon her fears, if I can knock her out of her headspace before any match takes place, if I can spend a little effort to keep her on edge, constantly looking over her shoulder…then I’ve already won. I had to observe her, then spend some time and basically play armchair psychologist with her, without her knowledge. In fact, I happen to have right here, the notebook with my observations and conclusions in it. _*He reaches over the arm of the couch, riffling around for something. Finally, he produces a dark blue spiral-bound notebook.*_ Would you care to hear a bit, see if you agree with my findings?  
Kate: Oh, okay. Well, I’m no expert, but Hell, I HAVE to hear this. Go right ahead.  
Adam: Thank you.

_*He opens the notebook to the very back, and clears his throat.*_

  
Adam: ‘The subject, upon close inspection, reveals herself to have a very complex psyche. At the forefront, she projects an image of a strong, confident, undaunted warrior. This persona is the result of her own training in the martial arts, but is also born of her innate desire to be accepted by her peers. This desire causes her a great deal of anxiety, as her ego is very much dependant upon other people’s approval of her actions. Any signs of disapproval or reproach lead her towards periods of isolation and severe self-doubt. Of special interest is how she wishes to be appreciated, inasmuch that she wants to be seen as a warrior first and foremost, with no consideration made to her gender or sex. While this is not unusual in and of itself, nor should it be denied her in the 21st century, the degree of aversion she has to the ideas of intimacy and sexuality is unusually high, manifesting as a total denial of that aspect of her life. She seems baffled by the notion that someone would even consider her sexually attractive, as though she’s never considered herself as a sexual entity, or that to do so would somehow diminish her. These attitudes, when combined with some publicly known family history, suggest an upbringing in an ultra-conservative, highly religious home, where Father always knew best and sex was more Satanic than sacred. There are indicators of various abuses (physical, emotional, possibly sexual?) present as well, but nothing conclusive without a dialogue with the subject. Given the accumulated evidence, I believe the subject would become fearful and confused by the actions of a man desperate for her affection—seemingly courteous at first, but more demanding and “chivalrous” as time goes on, someone whose actions pull into focus her sexuality at the cost of other factors about her. This sort of a persona is likely to put the subject on her heels and into a state of constant “fight-or-flight” impulses, which would exhaust her fighting spirit and cause her to falter in the ring.’

  
_*He pauses, closing the notebook in silence.*_

  
Adam: It goes on like this for a little while more, but I think you get the gist of it.  
Kate: I…what a fascinating look inside your brilliant, if disturbed, mind.  
Adam: _*raises his eyebrows*_ That’s just the summation. If you were to flip through this notebook, you would find not only my observations and evidence about her, cross-referencing actual data and case studies for the curious, but other tidbits of my observations throughout my promos over the last year. In fact, I have a rough draft of my promo from August about her fanbase in here, if you’re interested. Is this a more thorough preparation than almost anybody in wrestling would do for their opponents? Maybe. I’d hardly say that makes me disturbed, however.  
Kate: That’s…not why I said that. Something really stuck out to me during that spiel, and it’s that you never once mentioned Mags by name. It seemed...predatory, distant, cold.  That's disturbing.  Did you…stop thinking of her as a person at some point in all this?  
Adam: You’re reading too much into that. Using such anonymous language is a holdover from writing profiles for my psychology classes. Mags is very much a person. One I was trying to make weep until very recently, sure, but still a person. Only a true psychopath would say otherwise. Speaking of psychopaths, if any of you would-be serial killers out there think this is the way to a woman’s heart, you’re dead wrong, okay? _*Sputtering laugh*_ If you’re trying to actually make a love connection and you pull this s***, you deserve the a**-kicking, and the restraining order, that’s coming to you. After all, I AM The Villain, of this story and many others. That’s what I do. If you don’t have someone to rain on your parade, I will gladly come, with firehoses in tow, to ruin your day. I am NOT to be taken as a good example. It wasn’t my intent to woo her, it was my intent to screw with her. If a woman says “no” to you in your day-to-day life, respect her enough to drop it. It’s not worth the headaches or the effort. Just…don’t, okay?  
Kate: Sage advice to be sure, even if it seems a bit disingenuous of you. Do you have any regrets about this feud?

_*Adam shrugs, relaxing in his seat.*_

Adam: I regret that the match at Ragnarok went down like it did. I’d have won if it wasn’t a First Blood match, but management insisted on that stipulation.  
Kate: …that’s it.  
Adam: Mmmmyep.  
Kate: You don’t have any remorse for how you’ve terrorized Mags Bradford? You don’t want to apologize for making another human being run scared of you for the last seven months?  
Adam: Not really, no. Should I?  
Kate: Well, yeah!? Do you really not feel like you’ve gone too far here?  
Adam: Now hold on a moment! Wrestlers have been playing mind games with their foes and manipulating their fears for years now! Back in the day, Jake Roberts chased off the mighty Andre the Giant by using his fear of snakes against him. Nobody really got on his case about that, did they? How many heels have gotten the jump on their foes over the decades by calling out their courage, their pride, their masculinity, to set them up for a vicious beatdown? If you go out there, you win a beat down. If you don’t, you’re lesser than the braggart in the middle of the ring, calling you every name in the book.  
Kate: Okay, but those kinds of headgames are common in pro wrestling.  
Adam: So how is this different? Y’know what, better example. One of the most influential characters in the heady days of the 1990s, in my opinion, was Goldust. Here’s a man with size, with technique, with one heckuva pedigree, and he gets this bizarre McMahon fever dream of a gimmick. McMahon assumes that he’s just going to poof it up in the ring and get nowhere, but instead, Dustin Rhodes takes the gimmick, and he makes it work. He’s large, he’s athletic, and now he’s cunning and observant, to boot. He quickly realizes that, because he’s got this long, drawn-out entrance and this androgynous look and these peculiar mannerisms, that people won’t take his seriously right away. Once he racks up a few wins, now people fear him, because they HAVE to take him seriously, and he can make them uncomfortable, he can get in their heads and get them off-center. This is most evident in his feud with Razor Ramon. For months, Goldust threw himself at Scott Hall, lavishing him with gifts, odes, and proclamations of love and lust at every turn…all in an attempt to knock him out of his headspace, to make him distraught and distracted. See, we humans, generally speaking, we don’t want to think about the sex lives of people we don’t personally find attractive. Example: How often do you think about your parents making love?  
Kate: Errrrr, well, I don’t really, thanks for asking.  
Adam: That’s likely because they’re your parents. Even if, objectively speaking, they’re attractive people, because you don’t consider them sexual beings in relation to you, your brain rejects the idea of them being sexy with each other, on the basis that it’s gross or unnatural or what have you. Intellectually, you know they have to have sex…at least, they did at one time, otherwise, where did you come from?  
Kate: _*glib tone*_ An overworked stork, detoured from a cabbage patch, dropped me on their front door. Obviously.  
Adam: _*deadpan, with a cocked eyebrow*_ Precious. But do you see what I’m saying? You have a twitch reaction to reject the idea, simply because it’s unappealing to you, even though I’m sure there’s plenty of fanfiction out there about the very subject, giving us objective evidence that it’s not universally unappealing.  
Kate: _*Chuckles unbelievingly*_ …okay, my parents’ sex life aside, was there a point you’re laboring to make?  
Adam: Right, so, that same idea, that we don’t consider people unappealing to us as sexual creatures, applies when those same people actually approach us in a sexually desirous way. Razor Ramon, the very model of a macho male, could NEVER, EEEVER consider another man as a potential sexual partner. Thus, to have one, and one so similar in size and physicality to him, no less, make his interest repeatedly known, got Scott thinking. He started thinking, in the lizard part of his brain, “Wait. If he’s this desperate for me, what could he do to me if he actually overpowered me?!” A large part of his ego, and his self-image, stemmed from his undeniable maleness, his veneer of always being the most overwhelmingly heterosexual, and always being in charge.  To force him to question any of that is to throw his self-esteem into chaos, which he then represses by reasserting himself as the dominant party, often via a temper tantrum. By poking at his machismo, by toying with Razor’s emotionally-stabilizing bubble of prescribed masculinity, which Razor took obvious comfort in, Goldust made his foe distraught and achieved his true goal, which was to defeat Razor Ramon and become the WWF Intercontinental champion. Now…why is it cool for him to do that, but when I poke at Mags Bradford’s Amazonian security bubble, when I toy with her notion that nobody would dare to contemplate her as a sexual being, I’m a huge jerk who needs to be banned, stopped, and arrested?  
Kate: I think the biggest difference is that this sort of harassment happens to women every day out in the real world, and most women can’t defend themselves like Mags Bradford can.  
Adam: Maybe they can’t kick a guy unconscious, but they sure can gouge out an eye if they need to. I know it’s much, much more complicated an issue than that, and that each person’s situation is different, but telling women they can’t or shouldn’t defend themselves perpetuates the problem. Personal experience time, men are utter wimps when it comes to pain and discomfort out in the “real world,” as it were. You look like you don’t believe me, but men are trained to put on a good show for other guys, y’know, “Oh yeah, I broke my finger falling out of my deer stand and onto a 16-point buck last week, no big deal,” when he actually slammed his finger in the fridge door and immediately got in the fetal position and cried for five minutes before his girlfriend drove him to the nearest Minute Clinic. _*Kate starts laughing heartily.*_ God forbid these guys get a cold and a headache on the same day! They act like they’re on death’s door!

  
_*Kate has to take a moment to recover from her laughing fit.*_

Kate: So you’re saying, aheh, that—  
Adam: Men are hyper pain-averse, by nature! Women, you wanna tell a guy to p*** off, make him sulk off and lick his wounds! You remember those weak points I talked about?  Use them!  Fellas, it’s real simple—you wanna keep your eyes and testicles in place, when a woman says “no,” just walk on.  
Kate: In other words, don’t be like you.  
Adam: Right, because as I said, I am the villain of this story, through and through. I’m a lowlife, I’m trash, and I’m proud of that, but it’s not for everyone. If you’re a decent person, you shouldn’t do anything I do on screen, simply because I am a scumbag.  So while that's a fair point, that women have to deal with this sort of thing all through their lives, I'm saying that I'm hoping seeing Mags defeat me will inspire women to defend themselves more often, because it will work.  I do hope too, that men, at some point, will stop viewing women as prey.  They're people.  They deserve to be respected simply for being.  What I've done here, shouldn't be replicated.  I did it to win matches.  You're not going to win anything doing what I do out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this is a really basic, uncomplicated way of looking at the complex social issues in play with this situation. Sure, there's more to it, but the advice Adam gives, I think, is solid. Don't take it for research, though.
> 
> If you're having trouble with this sort of thing in your own life, please, let someone close to you know. Hell, message me, and even if I can't immediately help, I'll at least be a crying shoulder for you.


	8. The Feud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The main meat of the interview. The reason we're all here. Adam finally discusses his half-year-long feud with "Straight Shooter" Mags Bradford, and some of the troubling issues surrounding it. We get a great deal of insight into his mind and preparations, as well as some insight on Mags, and some of it may shock, appall, or relieve you. Reader discretion is advised.

Kate: Ah, well, this has all been very educational, but we've been avoiding the year's biggest question all night.  
Adam: _*Chuckles harshly.*_ I knew it would come to this eventually. I'm just glad we had a chance to talk about lighter things before we delve into this cavern.  
Kate: *Indignantly.* You gonna let me ask the question or not, big fella? It could be about anything, y'know. I could be gearing up to ask you whose socks you wear under your boots, or if you think Edward Snowden'll ever see a pardon, or anything, really, and you're acting all cagey, like you've recovered the lost Watergate tapes of something. Howzabout you let me add all the tension and the drama we need, and you wait for the question, okay?  
Adam: _*Flashes an amused smile*_ Well, excuuuuse me, princess. It just seems like my feud with Mags Bradford is all anyone wants to talk about with me anymore. That is what you were setting up, right?  
Kate: Indeed, and can you blame them? For the last seven months, this feud has had millions of people, both inside the industry and out of it, talking up a storm. You’ve done some real boundary-breaking things in pursuing her, and it’s ruffled a few feathers, to say the least.  
Adam: Yeah, no kidding. Seems everybody’s got some opinion or other about everything about this feud--me, her, the bosses, my raising, the network, everything.  
Kate: They do. What I want tonight—what everybody wants tonight, really—is the truth. We want to hear your side of the story. We want to know what was going through your mind when you did what you did throughout the entire process, and, judging by that look on your face, you want a chance to tell it.

_*Adam shifts forwards in his seat, leaning closer to Katy.*_

  
Adam: You’re right. You’re absolutely right. See, here’s the thing. Over the last few months, I’ve been catching a whole lotta flack from a whole lotta people who don’t know what’s going on with me, with her, with anything backstage, and it’s high time somebody set the record straight. First of all, despite all appearances to the contrary, I do not, have never, and will never have romantic feelings for Mags Bradford.  
Kate: …absolutely none.  
Adam: Nope.  
Kate: Not even during November, when she was contractually obligated to act as your manager? You two seemed to be getting on awfully well then…  
Adam: Well, by now, I’m sure everyone watching this interview knows that was a smokescreen on her part, but in truth…I never was interested in her like that. Now, of course, there’s those of our fans who believe we would have been a great couple—trust me, I’ve seen the fanfics—and from a physical standpoint only, we might look pretty good together, but…she’s just not my type.  
Kate: Not your type?  
Adam: Nope.

_*Kate throws her left hand in the air, a frustrated look on her face.*_

  
Kate: Then why, sir, did you systematically pursue, intimidate, and—Hell, I’ll say it—stalk Mags Bradford? Why present yourself as having an obsession with her if it’s false?  
Adam: That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? The answer goes back a ways, and takes a while. Do you remember how I was saying, earlier, that I wanted my opponent to worry about what tack I would take to defeat them?  
Kate: Yes, of course.  
Adam: Well, the battle is not always won in the ring. Put yourself in my shoes for just a few moments. It’s the middle of May, and you’ve just been handed your first loss as a pro, in the first round of the Impresario tournament, by one Mags Bradford. You’ve seen that she’s pretty damn formidable in the ring, that those kicks of hers are everything they’re hyped up to be. You’ve seen that she’s no dummy, either—she’s got a good head for the ring, she’s got decent reflexes for stuffing cheap shots, and she’s got good match focus. Now, after that match, you’re running it back in your head while the trainer works over your bumps and bruises, analyzing just what went wrong. As your boots are peeled from your tired feet, you can’t help but shake that nagging feeling that you are going to run into this warrior again, and again, and again. You’re not eager to get your a** handed to you repeatedly. You need an advantage, one that’ll last longer than just one match. How do you get it?  
Kate: I think, were I you, I’d have pushed my weight and strength advantage harder, rather than all of this.  
Adam: _*Chuckles*_ Hahaaaaa…that’s why you’d lose over and over again. It doesn’t matter how big, how strong, or how tough you are, every body has weak points. The eyes…the proverbial “bread basket”…the groin…all are weak to impact, regardless of what you do or how you train. Mags has proven that before, lest we forget Afano Tualau so soon. Also, if you’ll recall, I went down that first match like a sack of s*** because she kicked me right in the brachial plexus origin. For those of you playing at home, _*He moves a hand to indicate a section of his shoulder.*_ that’s the bundle of nerves and arteries where the Vulcan Nerve Pinch is directed. It’s not just TV magic, folks—that’s a very real means of disabling someone in a pinch, pun totally intended.  
Kate: Suppose that’s true enough, but you still haven’t answered my question…

_*Adam slaps his legs fiercely.*_

  
Adam: Very well. The way I see it, there are three ways you can break down you opponent in any wrestling match: *ticks each one off on his fingers* physically, mentally, and emotionally. Now, any dummy can focus on the first one. That’s the whole point of stepping in the ring, right? Testing might against might, speed against speed, skill against skill? To someone on the outside of the industry, sure. When you’re as much a student of the game as I am, however, you begin to realize there’s a whole lot more to it than that. During my amateur days, I was downright notorious for attacking my opposition on those last two points. Was it sportsmanlike? Arguably not, but it wasn’t illegal, either. So if I couldn’t be certain that I would gain an overall physical advantage over her, then logically, I had to beat her on those last two points again. To do that, I had to observe her. I had to answer some very serious questions about Mags Bradford, such as…why is she here? What are her goals? How did she come to this company? Most importantly, what does she fear? What can I take away from her to rattle her cage the most? See, I figure, if I can prey upon her fears, if I can knock her out of her headspace before any match takes place, if I can spend a little effort to keep her on edge, constantly looking over her shoulder…then I’ve already won. I had to observe her, then spend some time and basically play armchair psychologist with her, without her knowledge. In fact, I happen to have right here, the notebook with my observations and conclusions in it. _*He reaches over the arm of the couch, riffling around for something. Finally, he produces a dark blue spiral-bound notebook.*_ Would you care to hear a bit, see if you agree with my findings?  
Kate: Oh, okay. Well, I’m no expert, but Hell, I HAVE to hear this. Go right ahead.  
Adam: Thank you.

_*He opens the notebook to the very back, and clears his throat.*_

  
Adam: ‘The subject, upon close inspection, reveals herself to have a very complex psyche. At the forefront, she projects an image of a strong, confident, undaunted warrior. This persona is the result of her own training in the martial arts, but is also born of her innate desire to be accepted by her peers. This desire causes her a great deal of anxiety, as her ego is very much dependant upon other people’s approval of her actions. Any signs of disapproval or reproach lead her towards periods of isolation and severe self-doubt. Of special interest is how she wishes to be appreciated, inasmuch that she wants to be seen as a warrior first and foremost, with no consideration made to her gender or sex. While this is not unusual in and of itself, nor should it be denied her in the 21st century, the degree of aversion she has to the ideas of intimacy and sexuality is unusually high, manifesting as a total denial of that aspect of her life. She seems baffled by the notion that someone would even consider her sexually attractive, as though she’s never considered herself as a sexual entity, or that to do so would somehow diminish her. These attitudes, when combined with some publicly known family history, suggest an upbringing in an ultra-conservative, highly religious home, where Father always knew best and sex was more Satanic than sacred. There are indicators of various abuses (physical, emotional, possibly sexual?) present as well, but nothing conclusive without a dialogue with the subject. Given the accumulated evidence, I believe the subject would become fearful and confused by the actions of a man desperate for her affection—seemingly courteous at first, but more demanding and “chivalrous” as time goes on, someone whose actions pull into focus her sexuality at the cost of other factors about her. This sort of a persona is likely to put the subject on her heels and into a state of constant “fight-or-flight” impulses, which would exhaust her fighting spirit and cause her to falter in the ring.’

  
_*He pauses, closing the notebook in silence.*_

  
Adam: It goes on like this for a little while more, but I think you get the gist of it.  
Kate: I…what a fascinating look inside your brilliant, if disturbed, mind.  
Adam: _*raises his eyebrows*_ That’s just the summation. If you were to flip through this notebook, you would find not only my observations and evidence about her, cross-referencing actual data and case studies for the curious, but other tidbits of my observations throughout my promos over the last year. In fact, I have a rough draft of my promo from August about her fanbase in here, if you’re interested. Is this a more thorough preparation than almost anybody in wrestling would do for their opponents? Maybe. I’d hardly say that makes me disturbed, however.  
Kate: That’s…not why I said that. Something really stuck out to me during that spiel, and it’s that you never once mentioned Mags by name. It seemed...predatory, distant, cold.  That's disturbing.  Did you…stop thinking of her as a person at some point in all this?  
Adam: You’re reading too much into that. Using such anonymous language is a holdover from writing profiles for my psychology classes. Mags is very much a person. One I was trying to make weep until very recently, sure, but still a person. Only a true psychopath would say otherwise. Speaking of psychopaths, if any of you would-be serial killers out there think this is the way to a woman’s heart, you’re dead wrong, okay? _*Sputtering laugh*_ If you’re trying to actually make a love connection and you pull this s***, you deserve the a**-kicking, and the restraining order, that’s coming to you. After all, I AM The Villain, of this story and many others. That’s what I do. If you don’t have someone to rain on your parade, I will gladly come, with firehoses in tow, to ruin your day. I am NOT to be taken as a good example. It wasn’t my intent to woo her, it was my intent to screw with her. If a woman says “no” to you in your day-to-day life, respect her enough to drop it. It’s not worth the headaches or the effort. Just…don’t, okay?  
Kate: Sage advice to be sure, even if it seems a bit disingenuous of you. Do you have any regrets about this feud?

_*Adam shrugs, relaxing in his seat.*_

Adam: I regret that the match at Ragnarok went down like it did. I’d have won if it wasn’t a First Blood match, but management insisted on that stipulation.  
Kate: …that’s it.  
Adam: Mmmmyep.  
Kate: You don’t have any remorse for how you’ve terrorized Mags Bradford? You don’t want to apologize for making another human being run scared of you for the last seven months?  
Adam: Not really, no. Should I?  
Kate: Well, yeah!? Do you really not feel like you’ve gone too far here?  
Adam: Now hold on a moment! Wrestlers have been playing mind games with their foes and manipulating their fears for years now! Back in the day, Jake Roberts chased off the mighty Andre the Giant by using his fear of snakes against him. Nobody really got on his case about that, did they? How many heels have gotten the jump on their foes over the decades by calling out their courage, their pride, their masculinity, to set them up for a vicious beatdown? If you go out there, you win a beat down. If you don’t, you’re lesser than the braggart in the middle of the ring, calling you every name in the book.  
Kate: Okay, but those kinds of headgames are common in pro wrestling.  
Adam: So how is this different? Y’know what, better example. One of the most influential characters in the heady days of the 1990s, in my opinion, was Goldust. Here’s a man with size, with technique, with one heckuva pedigree, and he gets this bizarre McMahon fever dream of a gimmick. McMahon assumes that he’s just going to poof it up in the ring and get nowhere, but instead, Dustin Rhodes takes the gimmick, and he makes it work. He’s large, he’s athletic, and now he’s cunning and observant, to boot. He quickly realizes that, because he’s got this long, drawn-out entrance and this androgynous look and these peculiar mannerisms, that people won’t take his seriously right away. Once he racks up a few wins, now people fear him, because they HAVE to take him seriously, and he can make them uncomfortable, he can get in their heads and get them off-center. This is most evident in his feud with Razor Ramon. For months, Goldust threw himself at Scott Hall, lavishing him with gifts, odes, and proclamations of love and lust at every turn…all in an attempt to knock him out of his headspace, to make him distraught and distracted. See, we humans, generally speaking, we don’t want to think about the sex lives of people we don’t personally find attractive. Example: How often do you think about your parents making love?  
Kate: Errrrr, well, I don’t really, thanks for asking.  
Adam: That’s likely because they’re your parents. Even if, objectively speaking, they’re attractive people, because you don’t consider them sexual beings in relation to you, your brain rejects the idea of them being sexy with each other, on the basis that it’s gross or unnatural or what have you. Intellectually, you know they have to have sex…at least, they did at one time, otherwise, where did you come from?  
Kate: _*glib tone*_ An overworked stork, detoured from a cabbage patch, dropped me on their front door. Obviously.  
Adam: _*deadpan, with a cocked eyebrow*_ Precious. But do you see what I’m saying? You have a twitch reaction to reject the idea, simply because it’s unappealing to you, even though I’m sure there’s plenty of fanfiction out there about the very subject, giving us objective evidence that it’s not universally unappealing.  
Kate: _*Chuckles unbelievingly*_ …okay, my parents’ sex life aside, was there a point you’re laboring to make?  
Adam: Right, so, that same idea, that we don’t consider people unappealing to us as sexual creatures, applies when those same people actually approach us in a sexually desirous way. Razor Ramon, the very model of a macho male, could NEVER, EEEVER consider another man as a potential sexual partner. Thus, to have one, and one so similar in size and physicality to him, no less, make his interest repeatedly known, got Scott thinking. He started thinking, in the lizard part of his brain, “Wait. If he’s this desperate for me, what could he do to me if he actually overpowered me?!” A large part of his ego, and his self-image, stemmed from his undeniable maleness, his veneer of always being the most overwhelmingly heterosexual, and always being in charge.  To force him to question any of that is to throw his self-esteem into chaos, which he then represses by reasserting himself as the dominant party, often via a temper tantrum. By poking at his machismo, by toying with Razor’s emotionally-stabilizing bubble of prescribed masculinity, which Razor took obvious comfort in, Goldust made his foe distraught and achieved his true goal, which was to defeat Razor Ramon and become the WWF Intercontinental champion. Now…why is it cool for him to do that, but when I poke at Mags Bradford’s Amazonian security bubble, when I toy with her notion that nobody would dare to contemplate her as a sexual being, I’m a huge jerk who needs to be banned, stopped, and arrested?  
Kate: I think the biggest difference is that this sort of harassment happens to women every day out in the real world, and most women can’t defend themselves like Mags Bradford can.  
Adam: Maybe they can’t kick a guy unconscious, but they sure can gouge out an eye if they need to. I know it’s much, much more complicated an issue than that, and that each person’s situation is different, but telling women they can’t or shouldn’t defend themselves perpetuates the problem. Personal experience time, men are utter wimps when it comes to pain and discomfort out in the “real world,” as it were. You look like you don’t believe me, but men are trained to put on a good show for other guys, y’know, “Oh yeah, I broke my finger falling out of my deer stand and onto a 16-point buck last week, no big deal,” when he actually slammed his finger in the fridge door and immediately got in the fetal position and cried for five minutes before his girlfriend drove him to the nearest Minute Clinic. _*Kate starts laughing heartily.*_ God forbid these guys get a cold and a headache on the same day! They act like they’re on death’s door!

  
_*Kate has to take a moment to recover from her laughing fit.*_

Kate: So you’re saying, aheh, that—  
Adam: Men are hyper pain-averse, by nature! Women, you wanna tell a guy to p*** off, make him sulk off and lick his wounds! You remember those weak points I talked about?  Use them!  Fellas, it’s real simple—you wanna keep your eyes and testicles in place, when a woman says “no,” just walk on.  
Kate: In other words, don’t be like you.  
Adam: Right, because as I said, I am the villain of this story, through and through. I’m a lowlife, I’m trash, and I’m proud of that, but it’s not for everyone. If you’re a decent person, you shouldn’t do anything I do on screen, simply because I am a scumbag.  So while that's a fair point, that women have to deal with this sort of thing all through their lives, I'm saying that I'm hoping seeing Mags defeat me will inspire women to defend themselves more often, because it will work.  I do hope too, that men, at some point, will stop viewing women as prey.  They're people.  They deserve to be respected simply for being.  What I've done here, shouldn't be replicated.  I did it to win matches.  You're not going to win anything doing what I do out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this is a really basic, uncomplicated way of looking at the complex social issues in play with this situation. Sure, there's more to it, but the advice Adam gives, I think, is solid. Don't take it for research, though.
> 
> If you're having trouble with this sort of thing in your own life, please, let someone close to you know. Hell, message me, and even if I can't immediately help, I'll at least be a crying shoulder for you.


	9. Wrap it Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we come back to some lighter fare. As the interview team leaves, Kate Cabana is left with a few final thoughts.

Kate: Okay, my camera man tells me we’re running low on film, so I was going to leave this question out, but now I have to ask because I’m curious. If Mags Bradford isn’t your type of woman, then what are you looking for in a woman? Or a man, y’know, it’s the 21st century.  
Adam: Ha! Nah, I’m looking for a lady…someone who’s easy on the eyes, of course, but also clever and charming. Someone able to carry a tune or a conversation about anything on a whim, and at least willing to learn about my wide array of interests, I’d like that. Certainly not someone whose head is as complicated and as stricken with self-doubt as Mags’s. She should be self-assured and loyal, and have no problem with me being a thoroughbred trash person. Sound like anyone you know?  
Kate: ‘Fraid not, big guy, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Now that this year is over, is this the last we see of you vs. Mags? Are you going back after her, or do you have other plans for next season?  
Adam: It isn't my intention to go back after Mags directly, but I'm sure our paths will cross again, so stay tuned. For now, I've set my sights on the TV title, at least. I'm not comfortable in a hardcore environment, that much I've found out, so I'm content to forever remain a two-time Hardcore champion. I do wish the current champ, Tajiri Ichiro, the best of luck. He's a great competitor, he's got a lot of experience, and I think he'll take hardcore to another level around here. Other than that, my focus is on The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny at Rise to Glory. After that...well, let's not give away too much of the plot, hmmmm?

  
_*As the last words escape his mouth, a loud door bell rings over Adam's voice.*_

  
Kate: Oh, geez, I didn't realize you had other company coming over tonight!  
Adam: Pshaw. A small holiday gaming get-together with some dear friends, no big deal. You're welcome to join us, if you'd like?  
Kate: Errr...sounds great, but my cameraman's telling me we really need to put this one on ice. Maybe some other time?  
Adam: Maybe send Junior on his way and stick around instead.  
Cameraman: Hey now.  
Kate: I would, but this guy NEEDS a chaperone at all times.  
Cameraman: Hey!  
Kate: Relax, man, I'll get you home before your mother knows you're not in bed. That, and the boss wouldn't be happy if we didn't get this film to him right away. Editing's been putting press on the office to get all the stuff they want in the end of year special early.  
Adam: Ah. Maybe a rain check, then. Just this once.  
Kate: Adam Gerin, thank you for having us in your home and letting us pick your brain. This has been...illuminating, to say the least.  
Adam: Glad to have you. shame you couldn't stay longer, but safe travels regardless.

  
_*The duo begin walking out the front door. As they open the door, an African-American man, somewhat smaller than Adam, nods cordially to them.*_

  
Man: Hey.  
Kate: Hello yourself. _*Points past him.*_ Can we...?  
Man: Yeah, sure. _*He moves aside, letting them slide past him.*_ Ay Lunchbox, you lettin' me in or what?  
Adam: _*Happy tone.*_ Big D! Get your a** in here, man! Wait...did you bring tribute?  
Big D: Did I bring...c'mon, Adam, you know me better than that.

  
_*As their conversation fades and Big D enters Adam's home, we see the cameraman focus again on Kate as she unlocks the van.*_

  
Cameraman: Well...what do you make of it?  
Kate: Honestly? I don't know. Yeah, there's something rotten inside him, but...he made some good points, too. I guess the real question here is...do we believe him when he says it's all head games? If we do, then this is a testament to how far he's willing to go to win matches and titles. If we don't...I'll pray for the next object of his affection, because he showed us some sick, strange version of love.  
Cameraman: Which one is worse?  
Kate: Subjectively, since I'm never getting in the ring with him, the second one. Objectively, well...they're both pretty bad. Either way, people are going to have to watch out for this guy for a long time to come.


End file.
